


When is a Secret not a Secret?

by phoenixqueen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Christmas fic, F/M, Family, Friendship, Games, Gen, Secret Santa Gift Exchange, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 08:49:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1812427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixqueen/pseuds/phoenixqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers are playing a little game for the holidays. Simple enough, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When is a Secret not a Secret?

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Когда секрет и не секрет вовсе?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13124853) by [pranks25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pranks25/pseuds/pranks25), [Saraceno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saraceno/pseuds/Saraceno)



> Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. All references belong to Marvel.
> 
> Rating: T (a tiny bit of bad language)
> 
> Author's Note: Written for the Secret Santa one-shot challenge at The Beta Branch. This was my gift for MusingWordSmith. I hope you enjoy, Muse!

When the anonymous letters appeared, having been slipped underneath everyone’s door, there was a great deal of moaning and complaining within the Tower. At first, everyone suspected that Tony was to blame…after all, it _was_ his Tower, and Jarvis should be able to identify the mysterious sender. The AI, however, remained stubbornly silent on the issue.

There was a bit of discussion as to whether or not everyone would play the game. Some, like Natasha, had never celebrated the Christmas tradition and didn’t see the point of doing so. Others, like Thor, didn’t understand the tradition at first, until Jane pulled him aside and explained what the purpose was. Afterwards, Thor became extremely enthusiastic about the idea. There were some who thought it would be a fun idea, and a great opportunity for the team to bond, and celebrate the holidays as a group. Finally, after much grumbling and complaining, participation in the game was agreed upon, and it was decided that the rules in the letter seemed simple enough.

**_1\. The person whose name is written below is your assigned recipient. There is no altering who you are giving the gifts to._ **

**_2\. You must provide at least one gift to your assigned recipient, although you may choose to give gifts to others if you so desire in an effort to confuse your recipient._ **

**_3\. You will have until the morning of December 25th to try to guess your Secret Santa’s identity. You may only make one guess, so make it count. (You may not use Jarvis to spy on the others, Tony!)_ **

**_4\. A special prize will be awarded on Christmas Day to whoever can correctly guess the identity of their Secret Santa. Please bring your gifts to the common room at that time._ **

**_5\. If you so desire, you may enlist the help of other players to get your gifts to your recipient._ **

Despite all efforts, Jarvis refused to show the video from the period of time when the letters were slipped under their doors. When Tony tried to manually pull up the video feed, he found that the recordings had been deleted, using complex algorithms developed by SHIELD. Normally, the inventor could have worked past that, but when he told the others what had happened, they just shrugged and decided to play along. 

As Bruce had pointed out, mildly, “Someone obviously wants to have a little harmless fun, and I say, ‘Why not?’. It’s in the spirit of the season, anyway.”

************************************************************************

Tony didn't know when the mystery box had materialized on his lab table. The rest of the team had free access to his lab, since Jarvis monitored everything that went on in the Tower. He had been in and out of the lab all day, between his own work and the meetings that he had accompanied Pepper to for Stark Industries. It could have been slipped onto the lab table at any point during the day and he might not have noticed it.

The box was actually rather large, and for a moment he worried that it could be some kind of package bomb. After all, he was Tony Stark, and he had more than his fair share of enemies. Of course, he didn't _think_ any of his enemies would wrap a package bomb in shiny silver paper and tie it with a bright red bow, but one never knew. “Jarvis, what’s this?”

_“It appears to be a gift, Sir.”_

“I can see that, Jarvis. Who left it here?”

_“I cannot say, sir. The person in question requested that the gift remain anonymous.”_

“You know I could just access the Tower’s security system and see who was in here, right Jarvis?”

_“You could, sir, but would that not violate the rules of the game?”_

“Who cares about rules? Come on, Jarvis, you know me and rules.”

_“Perhaps you should just accept the gift in the spirit in which it was intended, and try to enjoy yourself, sir.”_

Tony rolled his eyes and studied the package again, noting a card tied to the ribbon with a piece of string. Flipping open the card, he read the words written neatly inside. 

_To Tony (and the bots), From Your Secret Santa._

“So I’m the first victim, am I?” the inventor commented, grinning in amusement.

_“To the best of my knowledge, yes, sir.”_

“Can you at least scan the package and make sure there’s nothing dangerous inside, Jarvis? I like explosions, but only when I’m causing them.”

_“I would not have permitted the gift to be left there if there was anything harmful within it.”_ the AI replied loftily.

Tony slipped the ribbon from the box before he attacked the paper and pulled it off. The item underneath was packaged with plain brown cardboard, with no special markings or labels. Picking the box up and shaking it, he arched an eyebrow, impressed by the weight. He had to admit to a little bit of curiosity; after all, he was a billionaire. Anything that he wanted, he could just go out and buy and it wouldn't even make him blink an eye.

And who would buy something for him _and_ his bots?

He checked the side edges of the box and found they’d been taped shut, which he made short work of using a thin blade he kept on his desk for cutting wires. As he opened the side flap, he groaned. “ _Seriously_ , Jarvis?”

_“Is there a problem, sir?”_

“A Roomba? My Secret Santa bought me a _Roomba_?” Tony complained as he pulled it out of the box. A sheet of notepaper fell out onto the desk with a note laser-printed onto the surface.

_I thought that your bots might enjoy a toy to play with. Check out the special features! Merry Christmas._

“This has to be someone’s bad idea of a joke. I made better tech than this when I was eight!”

_“Perhaps, sir. Is not the next step in this game for you to try to guess the identity of your Secret Santa?”_ Jarvis queried. 

“I suppose so,” Tony sighed. “All right. So who would have done something like this? Not Agent, he’s too straight-laced to think of pulling a bad joke like this. Capsicle and Thor probably don’t even know what a Roomba is.”

_“Your logic is astounding, sir.”_

“Bruce, Betty, or Jane would probably have given me something more technically advanced than this, and they wouldn't have involved the bots,” Tony commented as he continued to puzzle out the problem. He tapped the box lightly as he spoke. “Fury wouldn't buy me anything, even if he _was_ my Secret Santa. That leaves Darcy, Birdbrain, Natasha, or Pepper.”

_“Do you think Ms. Potts would find such things amusing?”_

“She might find it funny, or _ironic_ maybe, but I don’t see her getting me something like this. She knows how I feel about these things. Same for Natasha,” Tony reasoned, picking up a small wrench and twirling it on his finger. “Darcy or Clint though…either of them would find it freaking _hilarious_.”

_“Have you identified the special features indicated by the note?”_ Jarvis inquired.

“One way to find out.” Tony studied the Roomba, spotting a switch on the top near the setting buttons. He turned the device on. An indicator lit up, reporting the bot had a full charge. “ _This_ must be what they’re talking about.” He flipped the mysterious switch. The vacuum-bot beeped several times before skidding forward off the lab bench and landing on the floor.

Tony expected the thing to shatter into a million pieces, but instead, the bot just spun once in a circle before tearing off across the lab, darting and weaving under the cabinets and benches as if it had a mind of its own. “What the _hell?”_

_“It appears, sir, that you have a runaway robot on your hands.”_

*************************************************************************************

“Good morning, Dr. Foster.”

Jane looked up from her computer. “Good morning, Bruce. I've told you, please call me Jane.”

“Sorry,” he replied as he headed over to his own workstation. Tony had wanted to meet with the whole group this morning – which included Jane, Betty, and Bruce himself – to discuss a new idea he had for Stark Industries’ medical division. Why exactly a medical invention needed an astrophysicist, Bruce wasn't entirely sure, but at the very least he and Dr. Foster could steer Tony away from any idea that might be too explosive, in the literal sense of the word.

As he passed by where she was working, he slipped an envelope down onto her desk. “This was sitting on the table in the common room when I went to make a cup of tea. It has your name on it, so I thought I would bring it down.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Thank you.” Leaving her computer, she picked up the envelope. “Hmm. It looks like Pepper’s handwriting, but she usually sends me emails or calls me if she needs to talk to me.”

Bruce listened to the sound of paper tearing as she opened the envelope, while he concentrated on his most recent set of data points from an ongoing experiment. He heard Jane let out a small gasp a few seconds later, and he glanced over at her. “Bad news?” he asked, letting some concern leak into his voice.

“Umm…no, actually. I’m just surprised.” She held up a Christmas card and a folded slip of paper. “It’s an all-inclusive gift certificate to The Peninsula Spa on 5th Avenue. A massage, manicure, pedicure, facial, and lunch, along with the use of their fitness and relaxation center.”

His eyebrows went up in surprise. “Wow. That’s nice. Is it from Pepper?”

“I…I don’t know. I thought so. This _looks_ like her handwriting, but the card just says _‘From your Secret Santa.’_ I didn't think I’d get anything this nice though…this kind of package costs hundreds of dollars!”

“Not many people in this Tower could afford something like that,” Bruce pointed out. “It would have to be from Pepper or Tony, right?”

Jane nodded. “It _could_ be from Tony, I suppose. He might have just asked Pepper to pick out something that she knows I would like.” 

“And Tony would have her sign the card so that he doesn't give away his identity,” Bruce pointed out.

“That sounds like him,” Jane agreed. She stared at the certificate again. “But this…this is a huge thing, Bruce! I mean – this is one of the best spas in the city!”

“Whoever your Secret Santa is, he or she obviously thinks you deserve a little pampering. Why not enjoy it?” Bruce said with a shrug. “We all work pretty hard around here because we want to – maybe your Secret Santa noticed that and just decided you needed a chance to relax for a day.”

“Maybe,” Jane agreed. “It just…this seems so _expensive_ for something that was supposed to be a _game_.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Natasha moved through the corridors of the Helicarrier towards the Quartermaster’s office. She was leaving on an assignment and needed to collect her gear before she had to meet Clint at the Quinjet. Absently, she noticed other agents giving way to her in the passageways – her reputation preceded her, and she smiled inwardly. The veteran agents knew her record, but it was the new, younger agents who had heard stories and rumors about her. While some of the stories were true, most of them were not – most were exaggerations or outright fabrications from her days working as a contract assassin before Clint had brought her in against orders. But the fear in their eyes never failed to amuse her. In time, of course, they would learn, but until then, they barely dared to breathe around her.

She keyed open the door to the stores and stalked to the desk. The Quartermaster was waiting with her requested supplies as well as her comm device. But there was something sitting on the top of the pile that she hadn't requested – a brightly wrapped box with a gold ribbon tied around it. Natasha gave it a disdainful glance. “What is this?”

The agent in charge shrugged. He was an agent who wasn't utterly terrified of her, but he did respect her. “I’m not sure ma’am. It was sitting on my desk this morning with a note saying that it was to be included with your supplies for your next mission.”

“Whose authorization was on the note?” Natasha asked sharply.

He checked the note. “It looks like Agent Coulson.”

Natasha held out her hand and he placed the note in it. Natasha’s eyes flicked to the signature at the bottom. “This is _not_ Agent Coulson’s signature. It is his name, but this is not his handwriting.” She eyed the package skeptically. “Alert the bomb squad…I want this package checked for any explosive devices, _immediately_.”

“Yes, ma’am!” The agent reached for the phone on his desk while pushing a button on the nearby control panel. Red lights began flashing in the room while an alarm blared. She could hear noise from the corridor as other agents reacted, moving to their alert stations without a word. It was less than a minute before an explosives expert arrived. Natasha filled him in briefly and watched while he assembled his gear and ran a sensor over the merrily wrapped package.

“It’s clear, ma’am. No trace of explosives.” The agent tipped his head to the side. “It looks like a Christmas present, though.”

Natasha glared at him, and he packed up his gear without another word, leaving in a hurry. Natasha pursed her lips slightly as she studied the present again, before she reached for the tag. _From Your Secret Santa_. Obviously, someone was getting _far_ too involved in this little game – one that she hadn't even been that enthusiastic about playing, despite what her teammates had agreed upon. Forging orders from Agent Coulson took guts – SHIELD frowned on their high-level agents’ identification being used for purposes other than assigned missions, and there weren't many people who would dare it.

Of course, the rest of her team was just crazy enough to dare it, especially Stark and Thor. Clint probably would know better, but she wouldn't put it past him to at least help one of the others smuggle it onto the carrier, especially if Stark challenged him.

The box wasn't very large. Cautiously, still not trusting anything that could come from a member of the Avengers (and given their track records, that wasn't entirely unwise), she pulled off the ribbon and the paper. The box was an ordinary, department store cardboard box used for gift-wrapping. Natasha used one of her nails to slit the tape and open the box. Inside, underneath some tissue paper, was a necklace made of black crystals, a matching bracelet, and a pair of earrings.

For all that Natasha had seen, this took her slightly off guard. Who on her team would buy her jewelry? She never wore it unless she was on a mission that required her to be in a social setting. There was an envelope sitting in the bottom of the box. Natasha picked it up and found that it wasn't sealed. Inside was another note.

_Natasha_ ,

_I thought you might appreciate these. They are specially designed weapons – they’ll go unnoticed through a security check. The bracelet has a garrote cord hidden inside the clasp. The beads on the earrings contain a knockout gas – drop them on the ground and step on them, and they’ll knock a target out in fifteen seconds. The large beads on the necklace are a concealment device – shatter them and they’ll provide cover for you to escape a dangerous situation. After Christmas, I’ll furnish you with more, if you need them._

Espionage jewelry…it was like something out of a bad James Bond movie. Natasha rolled her eyes. That just eliminated Tony from the possible contenders of the idiots who would have pulled this stunt. As much of a jokester as Stark was, even he would have admitted that weaponized jewelry was a little ridiculous. It wasn’t practical under any circumstances. Stark would certainly have the skills and ability to make the jewelry, he would consider it to be too cliché.

Of the other people on the team capable of making the jewelry – Bruce, Betty, and possibly Jane – she didn’t think any of them would be the type who would leave the gift in the way that they had. One of them would have had to recruit help from either Clint or Coulson.

So she would go on her mission, and when she came back, she’d pin them down and figure out which one of them was behind this stunt.

****************************************************************************************************************

“Son of Coul!” Thor’s voice boomed through the common room of the Tower as Coulson walked in. “Tis most excellent to see you!”

“Good afternoon, Thor,” Coulson said with a smile as he looked over at the Asgardian. “Are you the only one here?”

“Aye. The Hawk went out with Lady Darcy and the good Captain this afternoon to shop for this feast day that I have been told is called Christmas? Iron Man and Dr. Banner are in the lab with my lady Jane and Lady Betty, in the labs, and the Lady Natasha is on a mission, is she not?”

Coulson nodded. “She is. She should be completing her mission tonight and returning early tomorrow – in time for Christmas.”

“I will admit, I do not quite understand this feast day. My Lady Jane has tried to explain it to me, but the idea of having specific days of the year on which to feast does not make sense. Why would you not feast and celebrate every accomplishment, even if it just to enjoy the company of others?” Thor asked, standing and walking over to where Coulson was setting out some files.

“Some people do, Thor,” Coulson said. “But for a lot of others, having to work every day doesn’t allow for a lot of time for large feasts, which makes them all the more special when the holidays come around.”

“And this custom of the Secret Santa?” Thor asked.

Coulson considered his answer for a moment. “Dr. Foster explained the concept of Santa Claus to you, didn’t she?”

“Aye, but it is another of your odd Midgard customs that seems to have no purpose.”

“Well, as I’m sure Dr. Foster told you, Santa Claus is a figure who represents what this season is about to those people who don’t necessarily believe in the religious aspects – a way to express the spirit of giving and kindness to others. The idea of the Secret Santa is just a way to be able to give a gift anonymously to someone you respect. Whoever set this up obviously felt that the team needed a chance to show that respect, and make sure that everyone received at least one gift this year.”

Thor nodded as he thought about that. “Then here is a gift for you, Son of Coul!” He reached over to the counter and pulled out a small box wrapped in blue and silver paper.

“Thor…you aren’t supposed to tell the person that you are their Secret Santa,” Coulson protested.

“I did not. This box merely has your name on it.”

Coulson looked at the box and saw that, indeed, his name was on the tag. Shaking the small box slightly, he smiled at Thor. “Thank you for making sure I received it, Thor.” He unwrapped it quickly and found a pair of designer Ray-Ban sunglasses.

“Well…this is interesting,” Coulson said as he carefully unfolded them and tried them on. They fit perfectly; as if they had been custom molded to his face. It made him wonder how anyone had been able to get close enough to obtain his exact measurements. He slipped them off as he thought about who would have given them to him. The only people involved in the game who could have been close enough were Fury, Clint, or Natasha.

“Are you not pleased with the gift, Son of Coul?”

“I am, Thor,” Coulson assured him. “These are very nice. They’re expensive, in fact.” He looked over the glasses again. Someone was apparently making a joke at his expense and at the stereotype of a secret agent who wore dark sunglasses to look more intimidating.

He picked up the sunglasses again and put them in the inside pocket of his suit jacket, before glancing over at Thor. “I don’t want to keep you, Thor. I just have some paperwork I need to finish and take down to Tony and Dr. Banner before I have to meet Director Fury at headquarters.” He smiled again. “Thank you for making sure I received my gift. Have you received yours yet?”

“Nay, but I am sure that I shall soon enough,” Thor replied with a bright smile. “I look forward to partaking in this odd Midgard custom.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Betty set her tablet on the counter as she walked into the apartment floor that she was sharing with Bruce. She wanted to take a shower before she joined the rest of the Tower’s residents for dinner. Bruce was still working with Tony to get to a stage in the experiment they were working on for a potential new weapon for the Iron Man suit, and Jane had gone out for the day with Thor, to introduce him to more of New York culture – slowly, rather than the fast paced way that Tony and Clint would have. She’d mentioned wanting to finish up Christmas shopping since there was just over a week to go.

She headed into their bedroom to get some clean clothes and paused at the door. Leaning up against the pillows on the bed was a medium rectangular package wrapped in red and gold paper and tied with a green ribbon. Frowning, she approached slowly and checked the tag.

_To Dr. Ross, From Your Secret Santa._

Logically, she tried to work out who could have sent the mysterious package. She didn't think it was Tony – the red and gold paper was too obvious a clue. Tony, for all that he enjoyed putting on a show for people, was more reserved among his friends and teammates than most people would expect. He could get overexcited about his discoveries and inventions, but when they were working in the lab, she’d seen him sit focused on his computer for hours, only occasionally muttering instructions to Jarvis, and not paying any attention to the world around him.

The green ribbon was probably someone’s idea of a joke – Bruce would never put a green ribbon on a package, even if he was trying to set Tony up as her Secret Santa. Again, it would be too obvious, and although Bruce was doing better about dealing with his feelings regarding his alter-ego, he wouldn't use it this way.

Everyone on their team had access to the suite she and Bruce shared, although they were all respectful enough to limit their access to the living area, just as she and Bruce were respectful of them, so that didn't help to narrow down her suspect pool any further. Leaving the package on the bed _could_ have been Tony’s idea…but somehow, she didn't think so.

The tag, however…there weren't many people living in the Tower who referred to her as Doctor Ross. Tony had, when she’d first moved in with Bruce, but the formality had faded in the last several months, and now he generally referred to her by her first name. Bruce had always called her Betty, unless they were around her father, but since she had cut off all ties with that man, Bruce never used her formal title any more.

Pepper still occasionally referred to her as Doctor Ross, except when they went out with Darcy, Jane, and Natasha for a girl’s evening out away from the men. She wouldn't put it past Pepper to try to play a trick and set Tony up – the CEO had a wicked sense of humor that most people didn't know about, since she was careful to keep it hidden. Never knowing when a member of the press might be around to ambush her, Pepper tried to maintain an air of calm respectability at all times.

Natasha also still called her Doctor Ross, and Betty wasn't entirely sure why. There was something about the female assassin that kept Betty from trying to approach her – she wasn't uncomfortable around Natasha, but nothing about the Black Widow encouraged friendship, either.

The only other person who called her Doctor Ross was Agent Coulson, but that was mostly because he was in and out of the Tower so often on errands for SHIELD. They hadn't had time to sit down and have a conversation to learn more about each other, or to develop a sense of friendship. She knew the Avengers trusted Coulson with their lives, but she didn't know the agent that well, and he didn't know her, so the formality was somewhat expected.

Curious now, she took the package and opened it carefully. The first thing her hands touched was the smooth wood of a custom-made picture frame. As she pulled the paper away, she gasped and one hand flew to her mouth in shock.

The picture frame was made of dark-stained rosewood with carvings chiseled all around the outside of the frame. But although the frame was beautiful, the picture inside was what made her catch her breath.

It was an exquisitely made watercolor painting of her and Bruce standing together. Centered in the middle of the painting, brought to life by the level of detail, she stood behind Bruce, her arms wrapped around him as she held him close. The expression on Bruce’s face was one of fear and sadness, but there was no sign that he was trying to pull away from her, while her face was so full of love that it made her want to cry. The entire painting was done in warm browns, ambers, and purples, which enhanced the whole painting and gave it a soft, almost dreamlike quality. A small gold plaque at the bottom of the frame read _“I’ll always be here for you, Bruce”_.

Betty was still staring at the painting when Bruce came in a few minutes later. He saw her sitting on the bed and frowned. “Betty?”

She looked up at him. “Bruce…”

He stepped to her side and saw what she was holding as his breath drew in sharply. “Where did you get this?”

“It was my Secret Santa present,” Betty said. “It was sitting on the bed when I came in a little while ago.”

“This is…beautiful…” Bruce said, one finger tracing her painted face. “The artist did an incredible job.” He looked at her. “Betty, there’s only one person I know of in the Tower that could paint something this good – that would have access to the Tower to get close enough to make this.”

Betty nodded. “Steve.”

Bruce nodded too. “It has to be him.” He checked the edges of the painting, looking for a signature, but didn't find one.

“It’s…a little obvious, though, isn't it?” Betty wondered. “Everyone in the Tower knows that he is an artist.” She knew that she’d held Bruce like this before, but only when they were alone and usually after one of Bruce’s transformations, when he was the most upset and afraid of what might happen if the military ever caught up to him or found a way past SHIELD and Tony. Steve had never been anywhere near them when they were like this – it was her private way of trying to reach Bruce…to convince him that he was safe.

“Bruce…this was for me…but I think it was for you too. I don’t know how Steve was able to make this, or when, but…”

Bruce nodded. “I know.” He looked at her. “Betty…I’m not going to deny that I still have reservations about the Other Guy. But I’m done running.”

Betty took the picture and leaned it up against the wall until they could get the tools to hang it. She turned back and kissed him gently. “I’m glad. But if you ever think you might run again…maybe this will remind you how much I love you.”

****************************************************************************************************************

“Director, you wanted to see me?” Coulson stepped into Fury’s office.

Fury scowled and pointed at the opened envelope on his desk. “I need you to take care of that for me.”

Coulson arched an eyebrow and picked up the envelope. It looked oddly familiar. He pulled out the piece of paper inside and scanned it. He looked up at Fury with an ironic look. “Really, sir? You want me to pick up your Secret Santa present?”

“I don’t even know why I was included on the damn list in the first place,” Fury grumbled. “Do I _look_ like the kind of person who gives a crap about a damn Secret Santa game? Especially if Stark is involved in some way?”

Coulson fought to hide a smile at Fury’s grumbling. “No sir.”

Fury snarled. “I know you’re laughing Coulson. I’m not getting involved in this, but for the spirit of the season and because if I don’t show up with a gift someone else won’t get one, I want you to take care of it. But I’m not going out in the damn snow and crowds to buy a gift for someone for the sake of one of Stark’s crazy ideas.”

Coulson sighed. “Yes, sir.”

“Expense it and bring me the sales slip and I’ll sign off on it.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Clint flicked on the lights to his private shooting range at the Tower. It was a huge space that took up an entire floor of the Tower. Tony had taken out all of the interior walls except for the load-bearing walls in order to make the range large enough, before setting up a computerized system that could create various obstacles that he could use for his practice sessions.

The first thing he noticed was a small package tied to the control panel. Frowning, he walked over and untied it. It was wrapped in red paper and had a tag tied to it. Clint checked the tag.

_When I take a bow, my spine is straight, but my arms are bent._

“Huh. Jarvis, did Tony decide to do a scavenger hunt all of a sudden?”

_“Not to my knowledge, Agent Barton.”_

Clint opened the present and had to laugh. Inside was a small seven-inch figure of Legolas, standing with his bow in one hand and one of his ivory knives in the other. “Tony has to be behind this. It’s right up his alley.” He scanned the note again, and immediately noticed a few key words that stood out. “But if he’s messed with my bows, I’m going to make him my next target.”

Moving over to the cabinet where he kept his practice bows, Clint worked the lock and opened the door. A second package was inside, tied to the spine of one of his recurve bows. Clint pulled it out and checked it for any damage, but it didn't appear to have been touched, other than to have a soft piece of ribbon tied to it.

The second package was wrapped in blue paper and another note was attached.

_Don’t make me quiver with fright._

Opening the second package, he smiled again. This time it was a seven-inch figure of a young girl wearing a blue dress, with long red hair. “Merida from _Brave?_ Really? And the answer to the riddle is a quiver?”

He replaced the bow and pocketed the second figure before he left the range. He’d tinkered with his automated quiver the night before, but he’d left it in his room before joining the others for movie night. He didn't know what his Secret Santa had in mind, but he was willing to play the game. He was curious as to how someone had managed to get into the locked cabinet where he kept his bows, though. Tony had promised him that he would be the only one with access.

When he entered his quarters, he went to where he had left his quiver sitting on the kitchen counter, and saw yet another little package tied to the shoulder strap of his quiver. Detaching that one, he opened the package to find a figure of the comic book archer Green Arrow, along with a third note.

_Are you hungry for another new discovery Hawkeye?_

Clint shook his head and – just because he was paranoid – checked his quiver over to make sure that whoever was leaving these little notes hadn't accidentally messed with the settings on it. It was an extremely advanced piece of gear, after all, and he couldn't afford to have it fail in the middle of a battle.

Fortunately, everything checked out, just as it had the night before after he’d finished tinkering with it. He pocketed the third action figure and studied the note a second time. The only word that he could see that could be a clue was the word “hungry”.

Well, he had a feeling that whoever was leaving these little gifts for him wasn't going to put them all close to each other – they’d take enjoyment from watching him run around the Tower hunting for them. So given that reasoning, he was willing to bet that he would find the next clue in the common floor kitchen. 

Leaving his apartment floor, he headed for the elevator. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out the three plastic figures. Someone in the tower definitely thought they had a sense of humor, but in a way, he was touched by the gift. Living on the run the way he had as a child, bouncing from foster home to foster home, and then in the circus, he hadn't had much in the way of toys or personal possessions. A few of the other performers from the circus had given him books, but toys were almost non-existent.

That fact at least implied that his Secret Santa was someone who was privy to the details of his childhood…and there weren't many of those. Fury, Coulson, and Natasha were the only ones with access to the Tower and his personnel file. Stark might have been able to hack his file, but now that he thought about it, this didn't feel like something Stark would do. Not to say that Tony wouldn't have _participated_. The billionaire could easily have programmed in a way for someone to access Clint’s range and apartment without Clint knowing about it, or given his Secret Santa some kind of temporary override code that would allow Jarvis to bypass the security.

The elevator _dinged_ to a stop on the common floor and Clint stepped out. His sharp gaze swept the entire floor, looking for a tell-tale little package.

He spotted it almost immediately – a small rectangular package hanging from the handle of the refrigerator door. Shaking his head he moved to snag it from its place and opened it, wondering what figure it was going to be this time. He couldn't help the faint laugh that escaped when he uncovered the seven-inch figure of Katniss Everdeen. _That_ was definitely Tony’s idea – the inventor was the only one who dared to compare him to the heroine from _The Hunger Games_.

The note was tied to her leg. _Time for the main event, Hawkeye_.

Well that was certainly a riddle. He thought it through while he toyed with the little action figure in his hands. It sounded like the little action figures were just a prelude to the main gift. He studied the note again. There didn't seem to be any hint or clue about where to find the final gift hidden in it. _Main event. What main event?_ The rest of the team was gone or going about their own business for the day, so unless Fury suddenly called them to assemble, he didn't think they would have the answers – and he doubted that his Secret Santa would arrange a way to get his gift to him in the middle of a pitched battle.

His eyes suddenly fastened on the word event. The clue was right in front of him. The ventilation system. He rolled his eyes – it would take weeks to comb every inch of the Tower’s ventilation system. “Jarvis, has anyone other than me accessed the ventilation system in the past week?”

_“Yes sir. The ventilation system was accessed via the Tower’s intake on the roof.”_

“Who accessed it?” Clint asked.

_“I cannot say, sir. I am bound to silence under the rules of the game that is currently being played among the Tower residents. As the access did not jeopardize Tower security, I am not required to mention it.”_

Clint shook his head in admiration for whoever had set up their little game. Somehow they’d gotten Jarvis on their side, and Clint would have killed to know who and how _that_ had happened. He headed back for the elevator and pressed the button for the roof. When the elevator _dinged_ to a stop a minute later, he headed directly for the ventilation system intakes.

The access panels looked untouched, but Clint knew better. He pressed a small button on the edge of the housing. “Jarvis, unlock the access panel please.”

There was a _beep_ before the lock released with a sharp _click_. Clint pulled the panel open and grinned in triumph when he saw the package hanging from the inside of the door. He pulled it free and opened it, only to almost drop it in shock.

The figure…was _him_. A perfectly detailed figure of himself, clad in his SHIELD uniform, bow drawn, with his quiver on his back. Another note was tied to it, and he pulled it loose and unfolded it with one hand while still holding the figure of himself with the other.

_You have the advantage over those others, Hawkeye…you’re a real hero, where the others are only fictional characters from someone’s imagination. If anyone deserves their own action figure, it’s you. This is a one-of-a-kind, custom made figure. Enjoy it! From Your Secret Santa._

****************************************************************************************************************

“Good afternoon, Happy. Take me back to the Tower, please?” Pepper said tiredly as she slid into the seat of the limo. A solid day of department meetings, coupled with a shareholder’s meeting that ended up lasting almost three hours had done a number on her, and all she wanted was to go home and get some comfortable clothing on before relaxing with Tony and a martini.

“Good afternoon, Miss Potts. Mr. Stark gave this to me and asked me to make sure that you received it.” Happy handed her a box about the size of one that were used by boutiques and department stores. It was wrapped in green paper and tied with a red and gold bow.

Pepper raised an eyebrow. While Tony could be impulsive at times, she would have thought that he would have wanted to give her a gift in person. He’d gotten a lot better about buying and giving gifts since he’d come back from Afghanistan. He’d done his best to make sure that her birthday especially – the day he’d been abducted – was only filled with good memories now. “Thank you, Happy.” She studied the present as Happy got behind the wheel and slowly pulled the car away from the parking space outside Stark Industries.

She pulled the ribbon off of the box with a mild tug, before she used one of her nails to slit the tape on one end of the box. The paper came off easily and neatly, but she pushed it aside and opened the box to find a beautiful cashmere sweater in a dark green that would look beautiful with her hair and eyes. She had to smile and wondered who had actually bought the sweater – Tony didn't pay attention to female fashion as a rule. Even though they were in a committed relationship, the only female clothing he paid attention to were swimsuits and lingerie.

There was a card inside on top of the sweater, which wasn't like Tony either. He wasn't the type of person to write out love notes when he preferred the more physical displays of affection. She opened the card, wondering what endearment Tony would have put on the card.

_Boardrooms can be just as dangerous as Hammeroids. It never hurts to be properly dressed. After all, sometimes “shots fired” can be more than just verbal. This special fabric will make a statement at any occasion._

Pepper raised her eyebrows after looking at the card. If she was reading between the lines correctly, this was something that she could never have expected. A brand new fabric that wasn't Kevlar – she knew what that looked and felt like, after years of helping to manage Tony’s various projects – but one that had many of the same properties as Kevlar? While she could imagine Tony coming up with something like this, it didn't feel like him. For one, as she’d already noted, he didn't pay attention to women’s fashions. Designing a bullet proof sweater was not exactly something that he would even consider as a project. By that same reasoning, she didn't think Betty or Jane would have helped him – neither of them cared overly much what they wore outside the lab, as long as it was appropriate for the season, although Betty was a bit more conscientious about it than Jane was. Pepper was working on the two of them, but hadn't had much luck so far.

No…the only other person in the Tower with enough fashion sense to be able to pick out the style that was used as the design for the new fabric was Natasha. Pepper smiled at her conclusions and decided she couldn't wait to see what would happen on Christmas Day when everything was due to be exposed. In the meantime, the sweater would certainly look nice on her, and if it had an extra security feature…well…

****************************************************************************************************************

Fury stacked the last file in his outbox for his secretary to put away and leaned back in his desk chair. A tapping at the door had him sitting up again and checking the feed on his computer screen, even as his hand drifted towards his sidearm. One could never be _too_ careful, even if he was on his own, totally secure base. The screen showed Coulson standing outside the door, so Fury buzzed him in.

“Coulson.”

“Director,” Coulson stacked three more folders inside Fury’s inbox before he reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a receipt. “I completed your assignment, here’s the receipt and an invitation from Ms. Potts to come to dinner on Christmas Day. They want you there for the reveal of everyone’s Secret Santa.”

Fury snorted. “I don’t think Stark voluntarily would choose to hang around if I was there.”

“Actually, Ms. Potts told me that Stark requested she make sure she added you to the guest list,” Phil replied. “She said, and I quote, ‘Tony may not trust him, but he is technically part of the team – if he hadn't pushed for the Initiative, we’d all be alien slaves by now, or so Tony told me’. End quote.”

Fury managed to hide his surprise only by dint of years of espionage work. Instead he just looked at his right-hand man and grunted. “I’ll think about it.”

Coulson smiled, and it was the faint, humor filled smile that normally filled Fury with dread. He knew that smile, and it meant that Coulson was up to something. “I’ll let Ms. Potts know. Dinner begins at seven.”

Fury growled. “I didn't say I was going. Get out of here.”

“Yes sir.” Coulson left the room and closed the door behind him. Fury leaned back in his chair again and regarded the files that Coulson had left with an evil glare. He didn't feel like working on them, so he would put them aside until tomorrow. Of course, in that amount of time, they would probably breed and multiply into the hundreds. They always did.

A faint _chink_ noise from the ceiling drew his thoughts away from his paperwork, and his hand drifted down to his sidearm again. Something was in the ceiling that shouldn't be there. Another _chink_ had him moving towards the ventilation grate on the wall. The ducts were too small for anyone to crawl through – one of many security features that SHIELD headquarters had. But that didn't mean that enemies might not find a way to exploit them.

Cautiously, he swung the grate up and peered inside. He couldn't hear the _chink_ noise any longer, but he did hear a faint clatter from behind him. Spinning quickly, he scowled at the sight of a thin, rectangular package tied to an arrow with a suction cup tip. The arrow sat squarely in the center of his desk. “Barton!”

He glanced over at the window, which was only opened a fraction – but apparently just enough for Hawkeye to get the arrow through and land squarely on his desk. He stalked over to his desk and pulled the arrow free, before untying the package and tearing it open.

A ballpoint pen sat inside.

Fury snorted. At least his gift was _useful_.

****************************************************************************************************************

_It’s really a sad state of affairs when the criminals won’t even take time off for Christmas_ , Bruce thought as the Assemble alarm went off above his head. He carefully put down the beaker he had been about to pour some hydrochloric acid into, and headed for the door, knowing that the others would be right behind him. He was hoping that whatever this was, it wouldn't require the Hulk to beat. The last thing New York needed was massive property damage on December 23rd.

He reached the Avengers’ Quinjet just in time to see Thor and Tony taking flight from Tony’s balcony. Clint and Natasha were seated at the jet’s controls, prepping it for takeoff, and Steve was standing near the communications console, talking to Coulson and Fury. Everything seemed normal for one of their deployments…except for the wrapped package sitting on one of the bench seats with his name written in bold text on a large tag.

“What’s this?” Bruce asked.

Steve glanced over and shrugged. “It was sitting there when we got here.”

Bruce hesitated, but then reached for the package, which was soft and gave way under his hands. He tore it open carefully to find several pairs of pants. But the odd thing was there was no tag on the inside, and the material didn't feel like anything he was familiar with. “What are these?” He took one pair and shook them out, and saw a note flutter to the ground. He bent down and scooped it up.

_Bruce_ ,

_I know you’re tired of always having to buy new pants. I pulled in some favors and had a new, special material made for you. These pants will stretch to fit you or the Hulk as needed, and they won’t remain stretched out if you transform. I assure you, they've been fully tested. You don’t need to worry about not having proper clothing after you transform anymore. Merry Christmas!_

Bruce read the note a second time. “That…seems impossible.”

“What does?” Steve asked, coming over after he got off the communication line with SHIELD.

Bruce showed him the note. “This kind of fabric doesn't seem real.”

“Wouldn't some people say that _we’re_ impossible?” Steve asked. “I’m a super-soldier from the forties, Stark is living off of a giant battery in his chest, Thor’s a god, and those two –“ he pointed at Clint and Natasha’s backs, “-might as well be superhuman themselves. And you defy all the laws of physics when you transform, or so you've said. So how impossible is new, super-elastic fabric? If you don’t ever have to worry anymore about waking up without any clothes on, I’d say to be thankful for the gift.”

Bruce thought that over as the Quinjet banked slightly towards their landing site. Clint called back over his shoulder. “If you’re going to put those on before you transform, now would be the time, Banner. In about three minutes, that rear hatch is going to be open and anyone who’s in sight-line of the jet will see you.”

_That_ was motivation enough to scramble behind one of the support walls where he was out of sight of the rest of the team, and quickly swap out pants before removing his shirt. The pants were surprisingly comfortable without being baggy, and he wondered at the feeling of not having to wear pants that were slightly baggy so that he wouldn't worry about bursting completely out of them when he transformed. It had been a long time since he’d had that sensation.

“Coming in for a landing!” Hawkeye called back. “Giant mutant slugs at twelve o’clock!”

The jet settled onto the ground and Bruce saw Steve readying his shield as Natasha unfastened her restraints. The Widow moved up to him, her guns in her hand and smiled. “They look good on you, Doctor.”

The ramp opened and everyone else ran out to face the slugs. Bruce followed them and set the Other Guy loose as soon as he cleared the rear of the jet. The last thing he remembered before he was submerged under the Other Guy’s instincts was _not_ hearing the sound of fabric tearing under the strain.

And it was a wonderful silence.

****************************************************************************************************************

Thor stepped out onto the rooftop of the Tower to find Jane standing up there. He moved over to where she was gazing at the sky and gently wrapped his arms around her. “My lady Jane, are you not chilled?” He saw the heavy cloud cover, and the fat flakes of snow that were beginning to fall.

“No, not really, Thor. It was colder in Tromsø last year.” She indicated her blanket and boots. “Besides…I've got an Asgardian god to keep me warm.”

Thor laughed softly, a deep rumble in his chest. “Indeed you do, my lady.”

Jane laughed as well before she turned in his arms and pressed something into his hand. “Here.”

It was a narrow, elongated package wrapped in silver and tied with a bow made of leather straps of varying lengths. Thor studied it. “I thought that we were to exchange gifts tomorrow, my lady. Isn't that the point of this ‘Christmas’ holiday?”

“It’s your Secret Santa present, Thor,” Jane said with a smile.

Thor frowned and stepped back enough that he could use his hands. He made quick work of the wrapping and extracted a long, cylindrical tube with glass at one end and a smaller hole on the other. Thor cocked his head curiously. “What is it?”

Jane smiled. “It’s a telescope, for looking at the stars. You point this end at the sky,” she took it from his hands and demonstrated, “and look through the smaller end with one eye. We have more advanced ones, but this one is still powerful enough that you might be able to get a decent look at the stars from up here. The Tower is high enough up that the light pollution won’t be as bad as it would be from a lower building.” She handed it back to him. “You won’t see much tonight because of the cloud cover, but on a clear night you might. Try it.”

Thor did as she suggested and held the device up to his eye. True to her word, all he could see was the heavy cloud cover in the sky above them, but he still smiled at the device in his hand when he lowered it. “What a wonderful device. Will you teach me your stars, my lady?”

Jane nodded and snuggled back into his arms. “Remind me on the next clear night that we have, and we’ll see what we can discover.”

****************************************************************************************************************

Steve woke up on Christmas Eve Day and immediately noticed something different in his room. He didn't have much in the way of personal possessions in his room or apartment when he’d moved into the Tower, but he’d slowly begun collecting a few things here and there. One thing he hadn't collected much of was art. He’d been astonished at the prices modern art demanded in this new century, and he hadn't been able to convince himself to pay out the money for it. Tony might be able to spend freely on any art that caught his eye, but Steve was still living with the mentality of a poor kid from Brooklyn in the 40’s.

Now, however, a new piece of art graced the wall of his bedroom. He didn't know how someone had gotten into his bedroom to put it up without waking him up, and he was certain he would have noticed it the night before. Rising from his bed, he walked over to the wall and reached out to touch it gently.

A beautiful abstract tapestry had been hung from a wooden pole. The tapestry was a swirl of colors and designs that didn't appear to be anything of Earth origin. He’d studied art back in the 40’s before he joined the army, so he was familiar with many of the various regional designs. This one had some echoes of Scandinavian art, but there was a slightly different feel to the design. The fabric didn't feel like a cotton, linen, or wool either.

Steve couldn't be sure, but if he had to take an educated guess based on what he knew about art, he was willing to wager that the tapestry was of Asgardian origin. Thor must have brought it back with him from his last trip to Asgard. He’d have to make sure to thank Thor for the gift – it was a one-of-a-kind gift, he was sure. It brought a lot of color into the otherwise barren room of his apartment.

He stroked the fabric again, amazed by its softness. Whatever the material was, it wasn't like anything else he’d felt before. He would definitely have to talk to Thor about it after the holiday, since he didn't want to give away his guess too early.

He was interested to see what the rest of the team had gotten, and to enjoy spending Christmas with a “family” of sorts again.

****************************************************************************************************************

“Okay, who got me the totally awesome tazer?” Darcy demanded as she joined the others in the common room on Christmas Day. “It’s _soooo_ much better than my old one, and easier to conceal too!”

Pepper laughed quietly from where she was leaning against Tony. “Settle down, Darcy. We’re going to find out who everyone’s Secret Santa is right now.”

“Who was behind the game anyway?” Clint asked. “You can probably reveal yourselves now…everyone’s got their gift, so it’s not like we’re going to lynch you.”

_“I can speak to that, Agent Barton,” Jarvis said. “I have been given instructions regarding the revelation of the game master, but the answer will only be given when everyone’s guesses have been shown and the identities of the secret Santas have been explained.”_

The team looked around at each other and shrugged. “All right, Jarvis, you’re the ringmaster of this show,” Tony said. “Have at it.” The billionaire sipped from his tumbler of scotch as he wrapped his arm around Pepper’s shoulders.

_“I feel it is only polite to begin with the ladies who are present. Agent Romanoff, what was your gift?”_ Jarvis asked.

Natasha held up the jewelry she’d received. “Espionage jewelry, smuggled into my mission prep gear from my last mission. I received it on the Helicarrier, with Coulson’s forged signature.”

Fury was lurking in a corner of the room and growled. “And whichever of you forged that signature, we’re going to have a long talk later.”

Tony waved dismissively at the Director. “Cool your jets, Nick. It was all in good fun, and I’m sure whoever did it will never do it again.”

“Stark…”

_“Have you deduced who your Secret Santa is, Agent Romanoff?”_ Jarvis asked.

Natasha glanced around the assembled group slowly, her green eyes resting on each person, as if watching for a tell-tale clue that would give away her giver’s identity. “Of the people in this room, only Clint, Coulson or Director Fury could have smuggled my gift onto the Helicarrier, but none of them would give me jewelry. Tony would find it too much of a cliché…”

“Yeah, I would. Clichés are all fine and dandy in movies, but in real life they’re boring,” Tony interrupted.

Natasha glared at him for interrupting her. “And since they’re custom made, the only people here with the technical skills to make them would be Tony, Dr. Ross, and Bruce.” She eyed the three of them closely for a moment, looking for a tell. Tony was smirking, knowing that she had already eliminated him, but Betty and Bruce were watching her evenly. “Dr. Ross, you’re my Secret Santa.”

Betty sighed and slumped slightly. “Yes. I thought I had you fooled with the note from Agent Coulson.”

Natasha shook her head, her red curls bouncing slightly. “I know Coulson’s handwriting…and I’m a spy, Dr. Ross. It’s my job to put together puzzle pieces.”

The others laughed and Betty finally smiled. “But Clint was the one who smuggled the present onto the carrier.”

Natasha nodded. “I know.” At their surprised looks she shrugged. “Clint would think it was hilarious. His part was obvious.”

Jarvis made a noise like he was clearing his “throat”. _“Congratulations on your successful guess, Agent Romanoff. Dr. Ross, perhaps you would like to go next?”_

Betty nodded. “Okay.” She hesitated for a moment, before she produced the painting of herself and Bruce together. There were murmurs of appreciation from the rest of the group at the beautiful artwork, as Betty looked around. “Steve, you’re my Secret Santa.” There was no hesitation in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Betty, but I’m not,” Steve said with a smile. 

She blinked in surprise. “But you’re the only one on the team who can paint like this.”

“I don’t deny being the artist, but that painting was commissioned from me by someone else in this room. I was instructed not to sign it, in fact, but I’ll be glad to if you want me to after we’re finished here.”

Betty sighed. “Darn. Then I don’t have any other ideas of who it could be. Anyone here could have asked you to paint it.”

_“I had anticipated that not everyone would successfully guess the identity of their Secret Santa, Doctor,”_ Jarvis’ voice held a hint of amusement. _“We shall move on and use a process of elimination. Doctor Foster?”_

Jane smiled. “All right.” She held up the gift certificate that she had received. “I received a gift certificate for a day at the spa…and I think…” She looked at everyone around her. “I guess…Pepper.”

Pepper shook her head. “Sorry, Jane.”

_“Miss Potts?”_

Pepper indicated her dark green sweater. “A bullet proof sweater, if I am reading between the lines of the card I received to go along with it…and I know it’s not one of Tony’s inventions, which means it’s likely one of SHIELD’s.” She studied the four agents in the room with them, her eyes narrowed deep in thought and creating a tiny crease in her forehead. “Natasha knows the most about fashion…but that’s too obvious. I don’t know enough about Director Fury to think he would buy me a sweater…”

“He’d better not,” Tony growled softly, glaring at Nick.

Pepper’s gaze flickered between Tony and Nick for a moment, noting the hidden amusement in Fury’s eye. “Phil’s certainly protective enough and cautious enough that he might have been able to manage it…but my guess is…Clint.”

Clint nodded and leaned back against the wall, one foot propped up against it. “Good call. How’d you guess?”

“The comment in the note about the Hammeroids. Natasha was on the line with Tony and me when he first gave them that name and it seemed like something she would have mentioned to you, given that you’re partners. You’re also a sniper, so you think about things like Kevlar and unexpected attacks.” Pepper grinned in a self-satisfied manner and cuddled closer to Tony, raking her fingers through his hair.

_“And Miss Lewis, you will finish out the ladies in guessing.”_

“Well, I got a tazer…I guess Coulson.” Darcy said without hesitation. “Although he should have given me an iPod…”

Coulson shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Miss Lewis.”

“What? How can that be? Thor wouldn't have bought it for me, and neither would Jane. You’re the only one that makes sense!” she complained.

“But that is the point of the game,” the older agent said with an amused look. “It is all about misdirection.”

“Man…” Darcy flopped back into her armchair. “I was totally sure it was Coulson.”

“I’ll go next,” Steve volunteered. “I couldn't bring my gift in, because it was too big, but it was a beautiful tapestry that I suspect came from Asgard.” The captain grinned at Thor. “We’ll have to talk later about the design, but while you might have provided it, I don’t think you’re my Secret Santa.” He considered the options around him. “My best guess is the only other person I know of who enjoys art as much as I do…Pepper.”

The CEO nodded. “I was afraid it was a bit of a giveaway, but your apartment was so barren…I had to do something to brighten it up.”

“I love it,” Steve assured her. “It definitely brightened up the place.” He glanced over at Thor. “And thank you for bringing it, Thor.”

The god beamed in delight. “It was a fine piece of work, created by one of the finest weavers of Asgard, a Master in the fine arts. My mother highly recommended her work to me when I was last home.”

“Why don’t you go next, Thor?” Bruce suggested. “Since this is your first Christmas with us.”

“I would appreciate that, friend Banner,” Thor replied as he showed them his telescope. “My lady says that this device is used to gaze at the stars of your world. As she is the only one I know who studies them so, I guess Jane.”

Jane leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Sorry, Thor. But no. But you were sweet to guess me, and I’ll be happy to show you how to use it once the storm passes.”

Thor’s face fell. “Ah…the trickery involved. I should have learned better from my brother about making assumptions.”

“It’s okay,” Betty said. “You’re not the only one who’s guessed wrong so far.” She looked at the others. “Director Fury? Do you want to go next?”

“Stark.”

“Man…how’d you guess?” Tony whined. “I thought getting Hawkeye to deliver to you via arrow was brilliant!”

Fury fixed him with a level look. “It was a ballpoint pen, Stark. You’re the only one here with that level of juvenile humor, _other_ than Barton.”

“A ballpoint pen?” Tony demanded. “You seriously think that _I_ , Tony Stark, would give you merely a ballpoint pen?”

“Tony, what did you do?” Pepper asked.

“I tricked it out like no one’s business!” Tony replied. “Not only is it a ball point pen, but it is also a bug sweeper – if any listening device is within 50 meters of that pen, a green light will flash on the top of the pen. The closer you are to the bug, the faster the light will flash. It detects the frequencies most commonly used by listening devices and pinpoints them based on the intercepted transmission.”

“Espionage gear?” Natasha said dryly. “You've watched too many James Bond movies, Stark.”

“But it was too perfect…a spy toy for _the_ spy of all spies!”

“Tony…” Pepper ran her hand through his hair again. “I’m sure Nick appreciates the gift.”

Nick only snorted. “I’m ecstatic.”

_“Sir, why don’t you guess next?”_ Jarvis suggested.

Tony grinned. “Okay, I’ll take the challenge. I've already thought this through, ever since I got a possessed Roomba that tormented my bots.” He sat up a little more and took another sip of his scotch. “Of course, given that some people have already been fooled, I may have to rethink a couple of things.” He pointed at Thor. “Thor doesn't know what a Roomba is, which eliminates him from the pack. Since Birdbrain already admitted to buying a sweater for my girl, he can’t be my Secret Santa, and the same goes for Pepper and Betty.”

He cast an ironic grin at Fury. “Nick would have flat out refused to buy me anything if he had been my Secret Santa, and he would never have bought a Roomba. Agent is too uptight to play a practical joke and torment my bots.”

Clint burst out laughing, interrupting Tony’s ramble. “I hope you’re joking genius. Phil’s one of the best pranksters SHIELD has…why do you think no one ever suspects him?”

“Clint…” Coulson looked mildly exasperated.

Hawkeye waved off the caution. “Phil knows exactly when and how to pull the best pranks, because that’s what a handler does. He knows everything, and he knows exactly when people need a morale boost. That’s why he’s Fury’s right-hand man.”

Tony stared, his eyes flicking back and forth between the archer and the handler. “You’re serious?”

“As an arrow through the eye,” Clint assured him.

Tony blinked several times. “Okay…um…where was I?”

“You were making your guess, Tony,” Steve said with a sigh.

“Oh…right, of course.” Tony looked around the room again. “Miss Lewis would find it entertaining to give me a possessed Roomba…but she wouldn’t have had the technical skills to adapt one with a button that made it run wild all over my lab, which means it has to be one of the resident scientists.” He pointed at Bruce and Jane. “Bruce is my science-bro, so I don’t think he’d do it. However, it would have to be someone clever, who is good at adapting things…”

“Stark, today, please?” Fury snapped.

Tony flipped the Director off. “You already had your turn, so be quiet Nick. It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to play along. However, for the sake of the others, I’m going to guess…Jane.”

She grinned. “Yeah. I had fun adapting that, but it was actually Coulson’s idea to get you something for the bots to play with.”

“Play with? That thing tormented Dummy all day,” Tony said.

_“I do believe it tormented you, sir,”_ Jarvis interjected. _“I could show the video footage, if you’d like.”_

“No, Jarvis, that’s okay,” Tony said quickly.

“I think that sounds like a good idea,” Natasha said, a wicked smile creeping over her face.

“So do I,” Steve agreed.

“No, no, no, no,” Tony said. “Jarvis, I forbid you to ever show that video.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

Jarvis’ agreement got groans from the rest of the group, who wanted to see Tony squirm. The billionaire stood quickly and went over to the bar to refill his glass. “All right, moving on. Agent, you’re next.”

Coulson nodded and showed the room his sunglasses. “I hate to say it, but it was fairly easy to guess. Thor, you’re my Secret Santa.”

Thor’s face fell. “Aye, but how did you know ‘twas I?”

Coulson patted the god on the shoulder. “You were slightly too enthusiastic about giving it to me that day…however, Natasha, I know you were the one who provided the measurements so that they would fit me custom. You were in the room with me the day our facial measurements were taken for the new deep cover masks.”

The Russian assassin smirked at him and dipped her head in acknowledgment of his deductions.

_“Agent Barton, would you like to go next?”_

“Sure.” Hawkeye pulled out the various action figures. “Obviously, someone wanted me to think this was Tony, given that he’s the only one who uses ‘Legolas’ as a nickname for me. But, because I also know things about some of the people in this room – like their hidden senses of humor, I’m going to guess that these came from Nick.”

“Do I really look like the kind of person who would buy children’s toys for one of the most childish agents I have?” Fury demanded.

“Yes, sir.” Clint replied promptly, making everyone laugh. “You’re a giant teddy bear underneath that gruff exterior, Nick, and I know it. You love it when we pull pranks, but you don’t want to mar your reputation, so you yell at us anyway. Come on, I know you did it.”

Fury scoffed. “No, I didn't, Barton. And we’re still going to have a long conversation about you firing arrows into my office.”

“It was a suction cup arrow…it didn't do any damage.”

Fury growled. “I don’t want your damn arrows in my office at any time, Barton, you hear me?”

Clint smirked. “Yes sir.” He glanced over at Bruce. “Bruce, you’re the last one up. Who’s your Secret Santa?”

Bruce shifted and everyone realized that he was wearing a pair of the new pants that he’d been given. “Um…I’m in a similar frame of mind to Pepper. This is a brand new kind of fabric, and while Tony is more than capable of inventing something like this, I've been working closely enough with him to know that this isn’t one of his projects. It has to be a SHIELD design, which means it has to be from Phil, Natasha, or Director Fury.”

“So who’s your pick?” Darcy asked.

Bruce glanced over at her shyly, and then pointed at Natasha. “Natasha.”

The Black Widow nodded and gave him a rare, genuine smile. “Very good, Doctor Banner.”

“So who’s left who didn't guess correctly?” Steve wondered.

_“Doctor Foster, Doctor Ross, Miss Lewis, Agent Barton, and Thor, Captain,”_ Jarvis said. _“Those who have not been revealed are Doctor Banner, Agent Coulson, Director Fury, Miss Lewis, and Captain Rogers. Doctor Foster, would you like to take your second guess?”_

Jane nodded and thought about the ones who were left before her gaze settled on Bruce. “I think its Bruce.”

Bruce nodded shyly. “Yeah. I noticed how hard you've been working, and I just thought that you needed a day to relax.”

Jane got up and walked over to the bashful physicist and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. That was a wonderful gift, and I’m going to enjoy it immensely.”

Bruce coughed and flushed bright red. “Betty?”

Betty squeezed Bruce’s hand. “Since Steve has already denied being my Secret Santa…I’m going to guess…Agent Coulson?”

Phil nodded. “I’m glad that you enjoyed it, and Captain Rogers did a fantastic job on it. It came out better than I had expected, and I've seen a lot of his work.”

It was Steve’s turn to blush. “I was able to get high quality supplies…I couldn't have afforded stuff like that back in the 40’s, but having the right tools certainly helps.”

Betty leaned over and squeezed Steve’s hand. “It was beautiful, Captain. I think you missed your calling.”

“Darcy?” Jane asked.

Darcy frowned at the group. “I still say it was Agent Coulson, but since he’s just admitted to getting the painting for Betty…I’m going to guess Agent Barton.”

Clint laughed. “I've been around you…you’re armed and dangerous enough without a tazer…why would I arm you with something you could turn on me?”

Darcy slapped her chair in frustration. “Are you kidding me?”

“Agent Barton?”

Clint shrugged. “If it wasn't Fury, it has to be Darcy.”

Darcy sighed. “Yeah, you got me.” She shrugged. “I have a thing for archers…you’re a real archer, so you’re a real hero as far as I’m concerned. You deserve an action figure more than any of those fictional characters do. Thor?”

“My choices are Director Fury or the good Captain?” Thor asked. When the others nodded, the god frowned and nodded at Steve. “Then I will have to guess that Captain Rogers gave me the star-gazing device.”

“You got me,” Steve said with a smile.

Darcy gaped at Fury. “You of all people, got me a tazer?”

“Okay, I’ll admit that I didn't see that one coming,” Tony said, slugging back his drink. “You’re a sly bastard, Nick.”

“You should have figured that out by now, Stark.”

“Nick wouldn't be director of the most elite covert agency if he wasn't sly and crafty,” Coulson pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess.” Tony put his glass back down. “Okay, J. All the Secret Santas are revealed, so who set this thing up in the first place?”

_“I did, sir, with the help of Agent Sitwell.”_

“Agent Sitwell doesn't have access to the Tower,” Tony said.

_“I granted him temporary access to deliver the letters, sir. He was in and out in less than half an hour.”_ Jarvis sounded smug. _“I felt that you needed some Christmas cheer this year, sir, and this game seemed like the best way to do it. If you will all direct your attention to the door…”_

The elevator dinged open at that moment, and Agent Sitwell entered, bearing two large brown bags. “Jarvis informed me that it was time to give these to you.”

“Security breach!” Tony said.

_“I granted him access tonight, sir.”_

Agent Sitwell moved from person to person, handing out the items – stuffed Christmas stockings overfilled with candy and other Christmas treats. “Merry Christmas from your friendly AI, Avengers.”

Pepper laughed softly. “Merry Christmas Jarvis.”

“Merry Christmas, Jarvis,” the rest of the assembled Avengers and their assorted guests chimed in.

They were all forced to admit, if only to themselves, that it was too bad the AI didn't have a face to go along with his sensors and speakers. The AI’s voice was warm and content when he replied. _“Merry Christmas, sirs and ladies.”_

**Author's Note:**

> The picture that inspired Betty's present can be found here: http://crimson-sun.tumblr.com/post/24743619176/please-just-stop-running-done-with-ref-pic-i


End file.
